Over the years I have written many a post celebrating the Marine Corps’ birthday. Like Marines themselves they have been an odd assortment of the funny, the ribald, the eloquent, and the sentimental.

Today is the 240th birthday of the Corps and I find myself some what at a loss for words, except for one; love.

You see, once you strip away all of the ethos and pathos of the Corps’ legend and lore, dig down past a Marine’s bluster, ignore their mildly disturbing yet good natured psychosis, and get to their baser motivations, all you will see is love.

Maj. Gene Duncan USMC once said that your average civilian will never understand what drives a Marine to viciously kill with one hand while gently caressing with the other. To attempt to explain that complex dichotomy to someone who has never worn the Eagle, Globe and Anchor can be a laborious exercise in futility. Until you just tell them we do it out of love.

Love of country, tradition and Corps yes, but also love for each other and love for who we have left at home.

It is love for the Marine on his left and right that will make him savage in the assault and tenacious in the defense, for he knows that if he is not then his brothers will die. He knows that if he is weak and fails, then not only his brothers will suffer, but his loved ones at home will be at risk as well. Born out of that love is an aggressive brutality that is unleashed on his foe without hesitation or compunction. It is from that love that is born the courage that has won the admiration and respect of ally and enemy alike.

And it is the love for his own family that drives the humbling tenderness that a Marine can show the innocents of the world, whether on or off the battlefield.

My Corps is facing many challenges now. From an administration that has nothing but disdain for the very ethos that the Corps lives by, to a generational shift that no longer values the principles Marines have cherished, to a civilian population who wants the Devil Dogs put back on their leash, and like Kipling’s Tommy, kept away from respectable folk until once again the wolf is at the door, the Corps is under assault. It’s very culture is seen by many on the left as anachronistic at best, testosterone fueled, misogynistic, jingoistic excess at worst. And the Corps is expected by them to adapt to the social experimentation being forced on it for no other than reason to advance victimhood political agendas. The combat efficiency of the Corps be damned.

But Marines are Marines, from each generation to the next we are our own unique, eclectic, and yes just a little insane, band of miscreants. We continue to do what we do, and will continue to do so until our Republic has breathed its last. And we will do it because we love, deeply. Even those who despise us.

So to the grunts and the pogues, the boots and the salts, the long the short and the tall, Happy Birthday Marines! Carry on as you have for the past 240 years, and here’s to 240 more!

A belated, but heartfelt “Semper Fi!!” from this ol’ retired Squid. Worked alongside many of the aviation Marines throughout the years (those were the Marines who could read and write, and speak in polysyllables).

My senior son-in-law is a career Marine, currently a W-3 stationed at New River. We jokingly refer to him as the family’s token jarhead, but there’s nobody that any of us would trust more to have our backs in a bad spot. He’s kinda messy, but he’s loads of fun at parties!!!